Murder of a Royal Pain

“Thank you.” Skye snuggled under her blanket, pretending it was Wally who was keeping her warm. “My Catholic guilt gets out of hand once in a while.”

“Once in a while?” Wally chuckled. “Anyway, what were you saying about McCabe?”

“Oh, yeah.” Skye gathered her thoughts. “As I mentioned, Annette was dressed as one of the trio of witches, though she was supposed to be the Bride of Frankenstein. So I think it’s reasonable to question whether she was the intended victim or not, but McCabe claims that Quirk isn’t looking in that direction.”

“Hmm.” Wally paused. “You said that once everyone was in costume, all three of the witches looked exactly alike?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wear masks?”

“No, but the makeup includes a fake nose and chin,” Skye explained. “The resemblance is so uncanny, I don’t think our own mothers could tell us apart. Which is why I was so freaked out when I found the body. For a nanosecond I thought I was looking into a mirror.”

“Shoot. That must have been downright creepy.” Wally’s voice held a hint of a Texas twang. “I sure wish I could be there with you, sugar.”

“Me, too.” Skye felt slightly alarmed. She had never heard any trace of a Texas accent in Wally’s voice before. She hoped he wasn’t getting too used to being back in his home state.

“Unless there’s something you don’t know—which could be the case, since it doesn’t sound as if Quirk is sharing information with you—Roy may very well be going down the wrong road.”

“Yes. And it could be a detour that gets someone else killed—maybe me.” Skye’s voice quavered.

“Can you think of anyone who would want you dead? How about that parent? The one you think left you the note and slashed your tire?”

“I guess. But she’d have to be really crazy, because I don’t have that kind of power—the principal or superintendent can overrule any of my recommendations.”

“Then if it’s not Annette, it’s probably one of the other two women,” Wally soothed. “But when I talk to Quirk, I’ll mention that you received a threatening note a couple of weeks ago.” Wally’s tone became authoritative. “He will look into the other possible victims. And he will include you in the investigation.”

“That would be wonderful.” Skye hoped Wally was able to control Quirk even thousands of miles away, but she had her doubts. “It would be a relief to know he was at least bearing in mind other possibilities.”

“Consider it done.”

“Great.” She was sure it wouldn’t be as easy as that, but she changed the subject. “Are you spending all your time at the hospital?”

“Pretty much,” Wally grumbled. “It’s so frustrating trying to get answers. The doctors say Dad seems fit as a fiddle. All the tests so far have come back negative, and they’re running out of stuff to do.”

Out of the blue, a thought popped into Skye’s mind. Could Carson Boyd have faked his collapse? When she had met him last spring, he had been determined to get Wally to go back to Texas and take over the family business, even if it meant deceiving his own son. Could his illness be part of a scheme to lure Wally home? But what would that accomplish? She pushed the thought aside and said, “I’m sure your father appreciates your being there.”

“I suppose.”

“Last March you mentioned that your cousin is your dad’s second in command at CB International. Did you two grow up together? Are you close?”

“He’s ten years younger than I am, so not really,” Wally answered without elaborating, then asked, “Any other excitement in town since I’ve been gone?”

“Frannie is quitting college, and Loretta dumped Vince.”

“So, a typical Scumble River weekend.”

“Very funny.” Skye rolled her eyes. “You should do stand-up.”

Wally sniggered. “Maybe I’ll give it a try sometime.”

“Sure. Next time the Brown Bag has open-mike night, right?”

“Right.” Wally took a deep breath. “Guess I’d better let you go so you can get ready for church.”

“Yep. It’s about that time.” It was already seven. If she was going to get a seat at the eight-o’clock Mass, she did need to get going, but she didn’t want to hang up. “Call me tonight?”

“Definitely. Around ten?”

“Perfect.”

There was a pause, and when he spoke again his voice was gentle. “Be careful. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

“I will.” Skye hung up slowly, hating to break their connection. Once the receiver went dead she whispered, “You be careful, too. I have a bad feeling your father is getting ready to rope and tie you like a calf at a rodeo.”

Skye kept the feeling of warmth and caring she had gotten from her conversation with Wally wrapped around herself as she showered and dressed for church, but as soon as she arrived it evaporated.